


All talk, no tell

by i_gaze_at_scully



Category: The X-Files
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-17
Updated: 2018-09-17
Packaged: 2019-10-09 05:02:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17400518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/i_gaze_at_scully/pseuds/i_gaze_at_scully
Summary: Mulder overhears Scully telling someone about this person she’s fallen in love with...





	All talk, no tell

“No mom, it’s not like that,” he hears her half whisper as he stands in the doorway of their office. Backing away slowly, he tries to give her space to finish the conversation before barging in. He considers taking a lap, walking around the basement, but then he hears it. 

“You know me, this isn’t my strong suit. We haven’t… I haven’t told him yet.” 

His mind and heart race.  _What hasn’t she told me_? He panics for a moment, wondering if she’s going to leave, if she has her letter in hand as he hides in the hallway with sweaty palms and heart palpitations _. Egotistical bastard,_ he fires back at himself. Not everything is about him, it might not be him she’s talking about at all. He repeats that to himself to slow his heart, to calm his mind. Don’t assume. The old adage pops into his head: you know what happens when you assume…  _Yeah, well, I’m already an ass, so._

“That’s not fair, it’s so much easier said than done and you know it.” She heaves a frustrated sigh, and he doesn’t dare peek in the door but he can just imagine her leaning against the desk with her eyebrows furrowed, maybe picking at a hangnail. Whatever it is they’re talking about, she’s uncomfortable. She sighs again, this time in relent. 

“I know I should, mom, but it’s, it’s complicated, okay? … No, don’t tell me it’s the simplest thing. Love is never simple, and I don’t want to hurt him.” 

Fuck.  _Fuck._ Fuck fuck fuck fuck _–_

“He’s my best friend, I can’t… I can’t tell him mom. Not yet.” 

He doesn’t give a shit about his ego at this point because he  _knows_ her and he  _knows_ she’s talking about him now. They’ve worked together for seven years, been to the ends of the earth for each other, shared drinks and dreams, tears and torments, and though ‘best friend’ may not be his terminology of choice, it’s true. It’s him.

“All right. I’ll think about it, okay? I can’t really talk now though, can we catch up this weekend? … Okay, love you too, bye mom.” She sighs yet again, this time, he can tell, in relief. He’s afraid his heartbeat can be heard from the hallway, so he walks back to the elevator, presses the button just to let the doors open and close. He takes a deep breath and strides into the office like he’s none the wiser.

“Hey Scully,” he says, his voice cracking.  _Jesus Christ, man._

“Mulder,” she says, trying and failing to mask the surprise in her voice. He gives her an out. Or tries to. _  
_

“I just came back–” He trails off, points over his shoulder with his thumb by way of explanation. She doesn’t let him off the hook though, raises an eyebrow at him and stares. “From the bathroom,” he finishes awkwardly, lowering his hand.  _Smooth_. 

She nods, definitely not satisfied with his answer, but apparently content to let it go. She turns her back to him, organizing some files on the desk, stacking them into neat, entirely unnecessary piles. At some point, she turns around as though surprised at his presence again.

“Are you going to come in, or…?” He hasn’t moved. His hand is still on the goddamn doorknob. He clears his throat and closes the door behind him. The basement suddenly gets a lot smaller, suffocatingly small. He gives her a lopsided smile and a half a chuckle as he tries to pass by her. She looks at him like he’s telling her it was vampires again. (And hey, that one time it really  _was_  vampires.) On his way around her, he clumsily steps on her toe. She takes a sharp breath in but doesn’t say anything. He mumbles an apology and sits at the desk. He unnecessarily straightens the neat, unnecessary piles she made a minute ago.

“All right, Mulder, out with it.” She’s perched on her stool, arms crossed over her chest, all business, no nonsense. His Scully. He tells her the truth.

“I overheard the end of your conversation with your mom just now. I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.” It’s the truth. Not the whole truth. Not the  _please don’t leave me please don’t love someone else please don’t please don’t please don’t_ rattling around his brain banging pots and pans. He winces as he sees the flash of panic in her eyes. 

“How much did you hear?” Quiet, firm, forceful, tender. His Scully. 

“Something about not wanting to hurt someone.” His voice and eyes lower, the intensity of her gaze, gentle as her eyes are when he speaks, boring a hole in his skull. 

They’re expert acrobats by now. They walk the tightrope, their lives condensed to a single, paper thin line. Moments stretch, taut and poised, full of power and promise of destruction or grace. Moments like this. 

“Mulder,” she exhales, lowering her chin, hair falling in her face. Her hair is so much shorter now than it was when they met. It’s beautiful. She’s beautiful. 

When she lifts her head, there’s this smile on his face that he can only read as  _of course_ , the smile he knows and can’t help but reciprocate. She shakes her head and he knows he isn’t privy to whatever decision she just made or thought she shook just now. 

“What’re you doing after work?” She asks, her eyes soft and bright. He feels himself relax, though nothing she’s said out loud has quelled his fears.

“Not a thing. Why?” 

“Come over.” A simple invitation with no room for denial, and no need. He nods. When she stands, crosses to the desk, and rests her hand over his, he breathes again. 

“Let’s talk.”


End file.
